By Jacob Katel
By Laurie Charles
By Nate "Igor" Smith
By Abel Folgar
By Kat Bein
By Jacob Katel
First let me acknowledge that this kind of brown-nosing is pissing some people off. Most notably the funk-fusion frontman Lee Williams. He wrote a soon-to-be Pulitzer Prize-winning letter to New Times about this nightlife commentator's awe of chi-thang' clubs, A-listers, and silicone kajoobies. I won't argue the booby issue, I'm like a deer in headlights when I see those things. But being on a roll of confrontations lately, I figure me and Williams could use some face-to-face.
I head to I/O on a Spam Allstar Thursday night hoping he'll be there (he's in town, check your e-mails). It's nice to see the Spam Allstars have retained their fandom despite departing the Fuácata! phenomenon a few months back. It's the band's personable demeanor, a reflection of Andrew "Le Spam" Yeomanson, that people dig. So for the rest of the night I'm watching them jam, amused by the way Le Spam trances out, shutting his eyes tight as he pumps out beats. And Lee never shows. No live-action drama tonight. Spam's advice is pragmatic -- "Don't take him too seriously."
I never do, but I'll address his concerns. He wants me to be more edgy, angry, less of a suckup. Fine, here goes. Lee "Silk Undies" Williams is a self-righteous jerkoff (though I must admit he's tall, dastardly handsome, and a fantastic singer). Take that, Square Egg and shove it (I hear the band's superb blend of rock, jazz, and funk is sweeping the Big Apple). Bastard! I'm getting too worked up about this. After all, Lee "Mirror, Mirror on the Wall" Williams did mention my name nine times in that letter. Guess bad press is good press. Nobody knows that better than Lee.